Beauty alters the grain of reality.

Sometimes it's about playing a poor hand well.

All those layers of silence upon silence.

For if the modern mind is whimsical and discursive, the classical mind is narrow, unhesitating, relentless. It is not a quality of intelligence that one encounters frequently these days. But though I can digress with the best of them, I am nothing in my soul if not obsessive.

The snow in the mountains was melting and Bunny had been dead for several weeks before we came to understand the gravity of our situation.

There's nothing like having a sympathetic reader who asks the right questions, who understands what you're trying to achieve and only wants to make it better.

There is nothing wrong with the love of Beauty. But Beauty-unless she is wed to something more meaningful-is always superficial